


&

by jetame



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-24
Updated: 2016-02-24
Packaged: 2018-05-16 02:59:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5811031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jetame/pseuds/jetame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in the end, the self destruct button is easier to press anyways</p>
            </blockquote>





	&

maya hart isn't interested in longing gazes and sweet nothings. the concepts of monotony, kindness, love, they all seem to elude her, words in a dictionary that she doesn't own. her dictionary is vulgar, ripped at every edge, full of the physical stuff. all the fucking and all the needing but none of the having. 

lucas friar leaves her with stars in her eyes, pupils blown wide like the night sky. he's the closest to an answer she can get. and yeah, him pushing her against the wall, fabric ripping and skin a blazing red, even in the polluted new york night, fits fine. but the way he smiles at her, the way he laughs and watches her for more than just a show, it doesn't make sense. 

nothing ever makes sense.

and riley won't get down on her knees for him, no, riley's designer white jeans have never been stained with the dirt of frat house bathrooms. but he taught her to pray in eighth grade and not much has changed, except now he's her altar. she mentions it to riley once, cuts out his name and she doesn't laugh. all she does is stare. it doesn't come up again.

they all whisper about her. the guys say she has daddy issues, needs something physical just to get by. and her friends scoff, turning away or shouting back, but even if she's a liar through and through, they all know these aren't just rumors. they know because for her eighteenth birthday she gets a text from josh matthews. and for christmas she gets a new pair of earrings, the back seat of his range rover and false promises. he says he'll love her, he says he doesn't need his fiance, he says he hates being a senator. he brings his italian suits and lies and she brings her tight dresses and shame. and part of her knows it's all a lie, but the feeling of her back against leather seats and his hand in her hair is enough to dull the ache.

lucas finds out a week after they graduate, catching a familiar black car stopping by the neon light of the bunny mart. the disappointment is written all over his face when he watches her light a joint in her unmade bed. he doesn't speak a word. he doesn't have to.

she gets a job at coney island that summer, selling cotton candy to spoiled tourist kids and their exhausted parents. the last time she's with josh, really with josh, it's on the back table of her shop, his sunglasses still on, boring holes in her white sundress. he finishes with a shout, and leaves her with fifty dollars, an apology and a threat. his fiance knows, he says, the senate might know. it's stupid and it's not like her, but she sobs under the counter that night, turning the sign to closed so she can mourn her childhood dreams. lucas drives her home, his eyes only on the empty street ahead of him, instead of the broken down girl to his right. 

(if the senate knows, they must not care enough.)

his gaze burns from across her living room, angry beyond reason.

why would you...what would possess you to..." he trails off again. maya exhales, smoke burning back up her throat. 

"the sex was good. he gave me nice gifts. i had a crush." she rolls her eyes again, settling her stare on her chipped nails.

"it couldn't have been that good." it's an invitation, one she takes. she keeps her eyes shut as she climbs onto his lap, because maybe if she can't see him he isn't lucas. he isn't her bets friend's long-time crush and she doesn't love him. it's easier thought than done. she climbs out of her own bed and leaves after he falls asleep. the streets feel more like home, anyways.

quietly, she slips out the window. it's always been so hard for her to just stay. her legs ache from the stillness of rest as her heels click against the craved sidewalks. rain starts to fall, hard and pelting her skin with large drops. before she even knows it, her feet are racing as fast as her thoughts. and if anyone sees her now, a sobbing girl sprinting through manhatten, they'd probably laugh.

"that's just maya for you." they'd say. "she's always leaving."

she knows this, but she still bursts into the first travel agency with it's lights on, and through her soaked purse she finds four hundred dollars. she hails a cab for the way home.

he has work in the morning, so she stands outside on the fire escape until she hears the front door click shut. 

 


End file.
